The Memory Tree (35 page)

Around this time, Sealie finally drifted into a clandestine sexual relationship with Scottie. It happened like this.

She was checking her handbag while she waited for Scottie to pick her up for a film.

‘Shouldn’t be too late,’ she said. ‘I’ve left your supper ready. Don’t forget your pills, will you?’

Zav looked at his sister and felt an ordinary, old-fashioned jealousy. Why was he stuck here alone on a Saturday night, when Scottie and Sealie were off without a care in the world? His eyes narrowed. Now he came to think of it, they seemed to spend an awful lot of time together. ‘I’ll be just fine. As long as you two enjoy yourselves.’

Sealie bridled at the nastiness in his tone. ‘On the other hand, I may be very late. I’ll wait for Scottie on the verandah.’

I’m ashamed that I had to reveal this side of my father, and to his credit, he was ashamed too. But by the time he decided to say something, Sealie was gone.

She was unusually quiet that night, and when the film was finished, Scottie asked if she wanted to go home, instead of going for their usual drink.

‘Why don’t we go back to your place,’ she said. ‘I might just have that coffee you keep offering me.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

Scottie ushered her into the car, and when they were on the road, ventured a sideways glance. He was about to speak but stopped himself. Sealie’s profile appeared oddly stern in the intermittent light of the passing street lamps. He returned his attention to the road and they completed the journey in silence.
A state of suspension
, he thought. Once inside, he moved towards the kitchen, but Sealie clung to his hand. ‘I don’t need coffee,’ she said.

In rare moments, my aunt could be disarmingly honest. ‘I haven’t had much practice,’ she confessed, standing awkwardly beside the bed. Scottie cupped her face and smiled. ‘We’ll manage,’ he said. ‘I do love you.’

Sealie proved to be a passionate lover, her body eagerly responding to his, and as they lay together afterwards, she felt the exhausted pleasure she had once experienced with dance.

‘You’d have made a wonderful dancer,’ she said.

Scottie understood that he was being paid a very high compliment indeed.

Sealie was still reluctant to confess her affair to Zav (yes, she actually thought of it as a confession), so she and Scottie met in secret. Having organised the same afternoon off, they’d meet for lunch and return to his flat where they’d make love before Sealie retuned home to prepare Zav’s dinner. After a while, the regularity of the meeting, the complete predictability, began to wear, and Scottie became impatient. He couldn’t wait for Thursday afternoons, but was never sure of Sealie’s commitment. Sometimes she was fierce and needy and her lover’s ardour met his own. At other times, she seemed slightly distracted and he would smart at the swift efficiency with which she brought him to orgasm.

Before long, variations of the same conversation took place every time they met.

‘I hate this sneaking around. When are we going to tell Zav?’

‘Soon. He’s a bit down at the moment.’

‘I’m down too,’ ‘I owe Zav. I promised to take care of Grace.’

‘You owe yourself. You owe me.’

Sealie would kiss him, then. ‘I know. When we’re together I’m almost happy.’

The word ‘almost’ stuck in his throat like a fishbone.

In her blunt way, Brenda tried to intervene once more. ‘You know I have your best interests at heart,’ she said to Sealie, ‘but I don’t like the way you’re using Scottie. The poor man is desperate for you and all you give him are a niggardly few hours a week.’

‘I can’t do any more. Zav—’

‘—is not your husband. You’re creeping around like you’re having an affair.’

‘Say what you like,’ Sealie responded, hating the fact that her friend was right. ‘Zav would see it as another betrayal.’

‘He might just accept it if it’s a fait accompli. It’s inevitable that he’ll find out eventually.’

‘Nothing’s inevitable.’

As she sat in the café waiting for Scottie, Sealie brooded over her conversation with her friend. She could dissemble all she liked, but had to admit that Brenda had a point. Just because she had chosen to stick by her brother, Scottie shouldn’t be expected to live half a life too. As his kind, freckled face appeared in the doorway, she steeled herself.

‘Scottie,’ she said, when the waitress had taken their order. ‘I’ve been thinking . . .’

‘Dangerous pastime, thinking,’ Scottie said with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. ‘What’s up?’

Sealie managed to hold out against those crinkles that nearly melted her resolve. ‘This whole thing—it’s not fair to you. We need to stop seeing each other like this.’
Oh God. I’m acting out a cliché.

Scottie frowned. ‘Like what?’

‘It’s been three years. You need to get on with your life. I’m holding you back.’

‘You could marry me.’

‘You know I can’t.’

‘Why can’t you? I mean really—why can’t you? You know I love you. Zav’s my mate. I don’t want to hurt him but we never even discuss other possibilities. We could look after Zav together, if that’s what it takes.’

The waiter came with their meals and Sealie chose to ignore the proffered compromise. ‘It’s not that I don’t love you,’ she said, looking down at her suddenly unpalatable pasta. ‘You know I love you.’

Scottie shrugged. He knew nothing of the kind. He hoped—yes. But knowing. That was altogether different.

‘But love’s not enough,’ she continued. ‘Can’t you see? There’s obligation . . . duty . . .’ She grasped his hand, which was lying limply on the table.

He slid his hand from under hers, his face so pale that each separate freckle was etched with a clarity that made her wince. ‘Seal.’ He searched her face for clues. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Please. It’s hard enough.’

‘Hard? Hard! If you really loved me it would be impossible.’

‘I hope we can still be mates.’
Find something original to say. He’s worth more than this.

‘Mates.’ In his mouth the word sounded unfamiliar, like he was speaking in a foreign tongue. ‘Yes. Mates.’ He stood up. ‘I need a bit of time. Tell Zav I’ve gone away for a few weeks with work.’ Without waiting for her reply, he left, his wine and lasagne untouched.

The next time they met, Scottie brought a pretty, brown-haired, young woman whom he introduced as Nina. Will and Brenda watched Sealie as she chatted amiably with the newcomer. Her face was flushed with the effort. Zav went out of his way to be nice to Nina.
It’s better all round
, he thought. Scottie looked miserable and left early. Six months later, he was back with Sealie.

It wasn’t just the sex. It wasn’t just that he found her beautiful. There were times when the person he thought of as the real Sealie bubbled to the surface and he wanted to hold her face between his hands and say
stay.
This was the Sealie whose eyes danced with delight as she ate a simple ice-cream cone by the sea. The Sealie who loved to stride out along the beach, her long shapely legs bare and brown.

‘Race you to the pier.’ She always made sure she had a head start and when he finally caught her, they fell in a laughing heap on the sand. She’d kiss his nose. ‘All red, poor darling.’

She liked to watch the surfers.

‘I could do that, you know. I have very good balance.’

Skinny, red-haired Scottie was jealous of the surfers’ tanned, muscular bodies as they flew across the waves. He always came home red and itchy, but it was worth it. The shadow that enveloped Sealie had shrivelled to nothing in sun-glare and brine.

At times like these, Scottie wanted time to stop. Of course he loved her earnestness, her sweet, serious face, but he found real joy in her joy. As they drove home, he was always saddened to see the return of the shadow. Its demise was a wonderful but momentary illusion.

While Sealie was ambivalent about her relationship with Scottie, she threw herself wholeheartedly into what she termed her ‘honorary auntship’ to Brenda and Will’s daughters, Jeannie and Jo. Born just fifteen months apart, they were as inseparable as twins. She loved their cheeky little faces that smiled up at her with such trust and love. When Brenda was busy with parish duties, Sealie often took them out. With ‘the girly monsters,’ as she called them, she found untapped energy and a youthful sense of fun.

They often visited the zoo. ‘Meerkats! Meerkats!’ The children danced with excitement as they raced over to their favourites.

‘You look just like meerkats,’ Sealie would say, and they’d entertain her and themselves with a very fair imitation of the little creatures.

‘Race you to the monkeys!’ Sealie would take off first but the children won every time.

‘Slowcoach!’

‘I’m not a slowcoach. I’m the TICKLE SPIDER!’

A day out with Aunty Seal was a day to look forward to.

In later years, she took them to the theatre and the ballet.  ‘When I turn eighty, you’ll have to do this for me,’ she said.

I have to remind you, though. I’m her
real
niece. Given half a chance, she would have loved
me
better. It stands to reason. After all, blood is thicker than water.

And what of Zav? He was a young man and had his own needs. For some months after Kate left, his mind and body were burdened and his sexual desire subdued. When his libido returned, he was afraid of commitment. And at a deeper level, afraid to taint someone else with his sadness.

So he swallowed his pride and distaste and sought relief in The Perfumed Garden. When he first sidled through the door, the madam greeted him, then hurried out the back.

‘It’s that Rodriguez bloke. The one from the telly. I’m sure it’s him.’

‘The one that killed the baby?’

‘No. The son.’

The girls crowded around the mirror that revealed the occupants of the waiting room.

‘It is,’ hissed Joanna. ‘I went to school with his sister. No way I want him fucking me.’

There was a murmur of agreement. ‘Blokes like that are trouble.’

Soft-hearted Colleen volunteered. ‘Poor bugger. I’ll do it.’

The others shook their heads.